


Aethereal

by catpoop



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, SheithMonth2k17, keith and shiro meet on the astral plane, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Sheith Month '17 - 22/8: Astral PlaneTo meet someone in your dreams is a momentous occasion, and many speak ofsoulmates. But Keith doesn't believe any of it, even when he first stumbles across the tall, handsome foreigner in his sleep





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> according to wikipedia u can reach the astral plane (whatever it diddly-darn is) through lucid dreaming. so here, take this fic  
> ill update the second part in a day or two

The first time Keith sees _him_ , he’s suspended eighty metres above the stars and finding his feet against the circular walkway of a nebula. He knows there’s something special about this place, but it’s always been somewhere for him to chase after forgotten childhood dreams, not to – meet people.

He clears his throat, wary. The sound echoes outwards, soon dissipating into nothing, but the man turns around swiftly, like Keith had just called his name from across the street. 

“Hello?”

He’s tall, Keith notes even from a distance, jaw cutting a striking line and hair a stylised mop atop his head.

“Hi,” Keith returns, taking a tentative step forwards. The ground beneath him is solid, despite being dark matter and space dust. “Who are you?”

“I’m Shiro.” His accent is unfamiliar – tinged with a foreign language.

Some say that the people you see in regular dreams are just strangers glimpsed in the past, but Keith can’t recall ever seeing this man, or hearing a name like his. He’s too-tall up close, and Keith takes a step back to avoid straining his neck.

“What are you doing here?” In the past nights of wandering this landscape, he’s never seen a shadow of another person, and this Shiro – Keith frowns up into grey eyes.

“I could ask you the same.” Shiro’s tone is light, brow quirked in interest. “I’ve never seen anyone else here. And what’s _your_ name?”

“Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith.”

Keith isn’t too sure he can say the same, when he’s gotten used to the nightly solace of having the ever-morphing spacescape to wander about and explore, but he shakes the warm palm offered to him anyway.

“Are you another dreamer?” _Or a figment of my imagination?_ But no, Keith shakes himself, he’s heard of people meeting in lucid dreams, of the … significance attached.

“Yeah.” Shiro smiles. “It’s nice you’re here – sometimes this place gets a little lonely. But it’s strange we haven’t met before.”

It _is_ strange, and then a sudden realisation hits him. “Oh it’s – it’s because I switched to the night shift last week, so now I’m –” _I’m sleeping through the middle of the day._ Which raises a question. “Where are you from?”

“Japan.”

Well, that would explain the accent. Mind-boggled, Keith stares; gulps when he realises his mouth is hanging open. How do two people on opposite ends of the earth just … meet, like this?

“Um, Nagoya, specifically,” Shiro adds, when Keith remains embarrassingly silent.

“W-Wow. I’ve never been to Japan.” Never really been anywhere too far from the shack he calls home, to be honest. Apparently someone on his mother’s side had been of Asian descent, but Keith isn’t confident enough to pinpoint who exactly.

“Maybe I can show you Japan sometime – if this place will let me.” Shiro looks hopeful. “Where do you live?”

“America.”

Shiro’s eyes widen in similar surprise. “I’ve never heard of people so far apart meeting here.”

Keith’s eyes drift from his imposing figure to the background behind. He’d rather look at the stars anyway, than this _man_.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a pause, “I should get going. Maybe we’ll meet later.” And with a lopsided smile, Keith walks off, imagining steps under his feet that lift him further into space and away from the plane Shiro is still stood on.

“Wait – ”

\-----

Keith wakes to a creaking from somewhere within the house, and to fuzzy memories of last night’s exploring. For as long as he can remember, the dreamscape has resembled space, his interest never waning. So for the stranger – no, _Shiro_ , he corrects – to have stumbled across him means that … has Shiro also found this place as his solace and personal retreat?

Keith rubs his face, pulling on haphazard clothes and glancing blearily at the clock – just a little after noon. His night shift starts 8pm, and before that, he has little to occupy his time. Find another job, preferably, but his luck seems to have run out. 

The perpetual fatigue hasn’t faded with the last few hours of sleep, and Keith settles into a frayed patch of his couch, grasping a mug and tablet close. A sip of liquid caffeine drowns the yawn rising in his chest.

‘Lucid dreaming,’ he types, crinkling his brow at the usual results, the mysticism, _the s-word_. 

Soulmate. 

The kind of thing Lance believes in, which only makes Keith reject it even more. Maybe he’d just imagined the man, like he did the ideal dreamscape, like he did the –

Fingers hovering above the screen, Keith balks when he realises Nagoya, Japan is a real place. He’s never heard of it in his life.

\-----

The next night, or well, morning, Keith builds himself a tall, tall observatory where he sits, cross-legged, and stares off at faraway stars, eyelids drooping as he imagines constellations, then nebulae, then black holes …

He startles when a soft footstep sounds from behind. It’s Shiro.

“Oh. You again.”

“I could say the same,” Shiro smiles. “What’cha looking at?” And, kind of rudely, he settles beside Keith. In real life, Keith would’ve quickly stood up and left, but he’s lazy here. 

“Hm. Stars.”

“Do you get to look at stars a lot in real life?” Shiro’s voice is gentle, but loud when compared to the echoing emptiness they’re in.

Keith tries not to bristle. “Sometimes. Never up close.” Never like this, like he’s piloting a spacecraft and physically venturing into the far reaches of the galaxy. “What about _you_? Why’d you choose this place, instead of all the – more interesting places.”

Shiro is everything he isn’t: tall, well-muscled, and obviously in pursuit of something great in life. Keith has seen plenty of his kind whiz by in life, with their confident postures and extensive friendships. He isn’t jealous, not really. Just resigned.

“I like space too. You know, I wanted to become an astronaut as a kid – well, I’m sure everyone did.” Shiro sounds wistful.

Keith nods, silent. _Me too._ And he still does, if he’s honest with himself, but he’s left childhood behind long, long ago. “Mhm.”

Luckily for him, Shiro’s talkative. “Of course, the curiosity still hasn’t faded. Adult life gets boring, right?” 

“Yeah.” Keith briefly looks at Shiro. He looks like a professional, despite the loose pyjama shirt and pants. “What d’you do?”

“Mm, research. Astrophysics. You?”

Keith stares. The only person he meets up here, and he turns out to be some smarmy science-man. Of course.

“Me? Pfft – nothing _fancy_.” He looks away, swallowing bitterness. The spacescape is usually enough to calm him down after half a day of slaving over rude customers and dirty tables, but not today.

Fuming, he draws his knees towards his chest, darting an irritated glance at the peaceful-looking man beside him. “Why do you care, anyway? Go do something more productive with your time, why don’t you?”

“Hm?” Shiro frowns at him, and Keith studiously ignores his thoughtful gaze. “I – I just thought it’s supposed to mean something, when you meet someone in your dreams. I wanted to get to know you more.”

“Hmph. How do I know you’re even real? Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.”

“I could easily prove that,” Shiro replies, and Keith harrumphs. “Do you want –”

“Your number? No thanks.”

Shiro raises his palms in surrender. “I was going to say email, but I mean, if you want to pay for those international calling fees…” He trails off when Keith narrows his eyes at him, unamused. “Okay, okay – well, if you ever do want to talk in real life, I would be happy to?”

When it’s clear Shiro has nothing more to say, Keith turns away, glancing off into the endless expanse once more and trying not to think about waking up.

(Of course, he could find a new spot, away from Shiro, but when he’s alone for most of his waking hours, a human presence can be comforting. He wakes thinking about soft, rhythmic breathing and the echoes of warmth from the other man.)

The next night, Shiro is there, and the next, and the next after that. He soon becomes a regular fixture in Keith’s dreams, clad in a loose tank and soft pants, sharing his own (well-educated) interest in the stars.

Keith learns about this city a world away from his own town, marvels at the people and the sights and the food that Shiro tells him about. He searches everything up when he’s awake; delights in seeing that Shiro’s telling him the truth.

And, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s starting to enjoy these nightly encounters.

Of course, that’s when Shiro disappears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent 80% of today depression-napping
> 
> hey here take this shitty part two

The silence hits him immediately. Of course, there are times when their sleep patterns don’t match up, where Keith eases into the easy familiarity of solitude. But not when it’s a weekday; when he’s just got off the night shift, expecting to see Shiro.

“Shiro?” He tries, voice echoing off into the emptiness. “Shiro?”

There’s no reply.

Maybe – Maybe Shiro’s had to pull an all-nighter, and he’ll see him the next night a little more drawn and haggard. That doesn’t stop Keith from scouring every corner of the landscape until the midday sun beckons him awake.

Shiro’s not there the night after that. Or the next.

Keith hadn’t realised how quickly he’d adopted Shiro into his life until he’s furiously searching for news of anyone named ‘ _Shiro_ ,’ of any disasters happening in Nagoya. Nothing. Keith curses; he should’ve contacted him in real life when he was handed the opportunity. 

… Of course, that’s provided the man even exists. Keith stares blankly at his tablet. For once, it doesn’t give him an answer.

\-----

Keith doesn’t want to admit it, but Shiro’s absence is starting to take a toll on him. So much so, in fact, that his co-worker Lance notices something’s up.

“What’s up, mullet man? Why do you look deader than a … dead thing?”

“No I don’t,” Keith mutters, elbowing his way past the loud-mouthed bartender.

“No, I’m serious,” Lance adds, and Keith knows he’s staring at the unkempt nest on his head; the shadows under his eyes. “You look like my cat after she got run over by a truck.”

“Oh.” The customers haven’t yet started trickling in, so Keith has to stand there and listen to Lance’s blathering. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, _pal_.”

\-----

He might look bad upon closer inspection in the mirror, but it’s nothing compared to when Shiro reappears in his sleep, a tedious week later.

“Shiro!” Keith yelps, sprinting before he can will his legs to stop. “Where did you –” The voice dies quickly in his throat when he takes in Shiro’s appearance. His face, always expressive, is marred by a bright scar lashed across his face, and his eyes are dull, haunted.

“Oh. Hey.” Shiro lifts an arm to tiredly wave – his left, Keith notes – and that’s when he realises the loose, long-sleeved shirt lies limply along his right side, almost as though … he’s missing an arm.

“What happened?” Keith asks, once he’s bounded closer, close enough to peer at the healing patch of skin on his face. “Are you okay?”

 _I was so worried,_ he wants to add, _I thought you were gone I thought you died Ithoughtyou –_

Shiro heaves a tired laugh. “Can we find somewhere to sit down, first? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“O-Okay.”

Once they sit, facing out at the stars, Shiro looks a little less drawn. He sucks in a breath. “I was – in a car accident. And, um, I don’t remember much, but apparently I was comatose for a week. Because of the blood loss.” He gestures at his right arm, or what’s left of it. The shirt doesn’t do much to hide the fact that his arm has been amputated mid-bicep. 

“But –” His explanation doesn’t ease Keith’s worry. “But you’re okay now, right?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be.”

\-----

Shiro’s not okay.

It’s a hard thing to tell himself, but when he finds himself taking naps every other hour in the hopes of just _relaxing_ next to Keith …

Shiro scrubs at his face and props himself up with his useless left hand. Typing or doing anything productive has been a menace ever since the accident, and sometimes the weightlessness of being asleep but conscious is liberating.

And he doesn’t have forever to scrape his life back together, even if in the dreams it feels like so.

\-----

Surprisingly, Keith is the first to suggest it.

“Do you want to … exchange emails?”

After weeks, he’s gotten a little more comfortable with sharing personal details, but he’s never showed interest in knowing Shiro outside of _this_.

“Because, um, I was really worried,” Keith adds, and Shiro realises he’s stayed silent for too long.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I’m sorry I gave you cause for worry.” 

Keith looks a little happier after that.

The first email he receives is a tentative hello. The next, a photo. Then, a username to an instant-messaging app.

It’s reassuring that he’s real.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3
> 
> @swummeng-geys.tumblr.com (feel free to request fics, etc.)  
> twitter: @hashtag_yikes


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